


The Look in Your Eyes

by voiceless_terror



Series: Prompt Fills [10]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, But Martin is Loving and Wonderful, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sad About Jon Hours, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27526378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror
Summary: Suddenly Martin rears back from his arms, his back hitting the headboard with a smack. His eyes are widened in shock, like he’s just seen a ghost.But he hasn’t seen a ghost. He’s just seen Jon. Jon and his strange, flashing eyes.Jon is upset about a new development in his transformation as the Archivist. Martin reassures him.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Prompt Fills [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921006
Comments: 18
Kudos: 372





	The Look in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> For an anon prompt: can you do "i dont want to scare you away" with jon?

It’s on the third day in Daisy’s safehouse when Jon finally notices it. 

He’s working the tangles out of his hair, trying to bring some semblance of neatness to it, when he starts thinking about Daisy, what she’s done here, why she hid. Horrible, sickening thoughts flood through his mind like quicksilver and that’s when he catches it, a flash of green in his otherwise deep brown eyes. _Trick of the light,_ he thinks. It’s no longer there; he looks fine, normal- well, as normal as he can these days. 

Still.

He takes off his glasses and stares at his reflection. No change. His heart starts to calm and his shoulders relax when he suddenly Knows that Martin is coming back from his walk with groceries and is planning on making pasta tonight. _There!_ A flash of preternatural emerald green flits through his irises, plain as day. He gasps as he falls backwards, barely catching himself on the ivory tub on the way down. 

“Jon? I’m home!” Even the words he’s always wanted to hear, said in Martin’s sweet, playful tones can’t calm his rabbiting heartbeat. It’s finally happened- he’s a monster, inside and out. It’s not the worst thing in the world; Jon has imagined other grotesque scenarios, eyes cropping up where they shouldn’t, sharp teeth and clawed nails. It’s almost tame in comparison.

But it’s still _wrong._

It further separates him from Martin, illustrates his sad descent that is no one’s fault but his own. He brings a shaking hand to his face and presses- his skin feels like skin and he can feel the pain blooming under his fingers. That, at least, is still normal.

He’ll just have to try not Knowing for a while. Not around Martin. Jon thinks he can handle this.

It’s harder than it looks.

Knowledge floods though his mind like an unending riptide; he can’t control when it comes and goes. Jon’s taken to scrunching his eyes shut whenever he feels it, sometimes even turning and ducking his head away from Martin’s. But Martin is observant, as per usual. 

“What’s going on, Jon?” he asks one night, after Jon remembers something he shouldn’t about the neighbor down the road. “You’ve been doing that for the past three days.”

“Blinking?” Jon tries for a joke, but Martin just levels him with an unimpressed stare.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s a migraine,” he says instead, watching as Martin instantly softens. “Just haven’t been feeling too great.”

“You should’ve told me,” Martin gently scolds him but the effect is lessened by the hand that tenderly cups Jon’s cheek. He tries not to feel guilty accepting the paracetamol Martin fetches from the cabinet. 

Jon knows this is not sustainable. But the thought of rejection scares him more. Martin, freshly turned away from the Lonely only to find his boyfriend succumbing to the very fear he rejected. The disappointment he’ll feel, the shame. Martin leaves whenever Jon reads a statement, and Jon respects that, respects Martin’s boundaries as he lays them out. 

That doesn’t stop him from standing at the window when he’s finished reading, waiting for Martin to come back. Wondering if this time, he won’t.

Two nights later, he gets his answer.

They’re curled up in the small double bed that barely fits them; Jon often just drapes himself across Martin’s chest, though he knows that makes it harder for the both of them to sleep. Sometimes he’ll just tuck himself in the corner and watch the easy rise and fall of Martin’s chest, steady and sure. It’s soothing, on the nights when the dreams are too much. Jon craves and hates them in equal measure. He’s never told Martin this, but he thinks he understands.

Tonight, he’s in Martin’s arms. He needs his heartbeat, needs to know that he’s safe and warm and still breathing. He twitches beneath Jon’s touch, his eyes blinking open and landing on Jon, an impossible amount of affection in his gaze. He reaches a hand to tuck a curl behind Jon’s ear, and he Knows that Martin has always loved his hair- at any length, styled or messy. 

Suddenly Martin rears back from his arms, his back hitting the headboard with a smack. His eyes are widened in shock, like he’s just seen a ghost.

But he hasn’t seen a ghost. He’s just seen Jon. Jon and his strange, flashing eyes.

“I’m- I’m so sorry,” Jon stutters, scrambling out of bed and trying to hide the tears that are forming in those monstrous eyes. “I- I’ll just-”

“Jon, please-”

He doesn’t hear the rest of the statement as he barricades himself in the bathroom, trying to control his breathing. There are tears falling in a rapid pace down his dark, normal eyes but who knows how long they’ll stay that way? Maybe one day, when he can’t control the Knowing, when that’s all he is, they’ll be that unnatural, unnerving green and Martin won’t look at him with love anymore but with _hate_ and _fear_ and all the things Jon deserves-

“Please let me in, love,” Martin’s knocking at the door, soft but insistent. “I can hear you panicking. Please, it’s alright-”

“N-No, I don’t-” he struggles to find the words. “I don’t want you to see me like this. I-I don’t want to s-scare you away.”

“You could never scare me away, Jon,” Martin insists, and perhaps he is telling the truth. He’s trying not to Know things about Martin, because he doesn’t like it when Jon does that. But it’s hard sometimes. It’s hard tonight. “You just surprised me, that’s all. It gets so dark in that room, and then-well, they’re kind of like little green headlights, to be honest.” Jon tries for a weak laugh but it just comes out as a sob. “Please let me in.”

Jon’s never been able to deny him anything, not for long. So he moves to the door, unlocking it with shaking hands and meets Martin’s eyes, so full of love and worry that it makes him cry again. Two strong arms wrap around his waist and he buries his face into Martin’s worn sleep shirt, taking the comfort like a dying man needs air.

“There we are,” Martin soothes, rubbing his back like he’s something precious and human (which he’s not, he’s _not)_. “Is that why you’ve been so dodgy this past week?” Jon doesn’t answer, just buries his face more and refuses to meet his eyes. “I could never be afraid of you. Afraid _for_ you, sure. But never _of_ you.”

“One day,” Jon responds, unable to keep the sorrow from his voice. “One day you will be.”

“Never,” he replies, and the words are so vehement that Jon has to look at him, has to see those lovely blue eyes for himself. “When I was in the Lonely, so close to being the monster Peter Lukas wanted me to be, were you afraid of me?”

“N-No, but that’s, that’s different.” It is, Jon knows it. Martin would never be monstrous, never could be.

“It’s not, Jon,” Martin looks so sad but his eyes are urgent, desperate to make him understand. “You saw me, when no one else did. And I see you.” He brings a hand to Jon’s chin, lowers his own eyes to meet his. “I’ll always see you. See _Jon.”_ He turns hesitant, those blue eyes turning watery to match his own. “The man I love.”

It’s the first time either of them have said the words. At least, in the present tense. Sweet pet names, sure, but never- never the _action_ of loving. Of ‘I love you.’ Jon has hoped beyond all hope that Martin might still mean them now, but never pushed him on it. He couldn’t bear to hear the answer if it was no longer true. So he played at house, hoping that one day Martin might mean them again. 

“I-I love you too, Martin. So, _so_ much.” So much that his heart might burst from it. So much that he thinks, no, he _Knows_ that someday he will break this man’s heart. But not tonight.

They stay like this for what seems like hours but is likely just minutes, until Martin breaks the silence. “Y’know- they’re actually quite pretty.”

“Hmm?”

“Your- your eyes,” Martin’s blushing now, stuttering. It’s charming. “I mean, I’ve always loved them. But the green- it’s nice, is all. Different, but a good different.”

Jon scoffs. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do!” Martin’s grabbing at his hands, holding them in his own and smiling. “I swear! And you can Know it, if you like. Just this once.”

Jon doesn’t need to. He trusts him at his word, unbelievable as it may be. He’s so very tired of hiding, after all. One day, when the world is different and it’s all Jon’s doing, his eyes won’t ever be brown again. 

But Martin will love them all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked, anon! Just some sweet and a little sad Jon/Martin for your morning :)
> 
> Let me know how the rest of y'all liked it! Comments always appreciated :) You can find me at voiceless-terror on tumblr for prompts/asks. Thanks for reading!


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